Power and Perfection (part 1)
by RainiDayz
Summary: The man is seen as power. The elf is seen as perfection. What does it make when one doesn't understand the other?


His eyes scanned easily over the forest. Looming shadows made tall by the nearby fire, darkness surrounding the camp, making them targets for anything that lurks during the night. Yet, it was alive with serenity small hidden creatures cricked and chirped calmly. A cool breeze rustled through the branched leaves of tall trees, bring a chill to the warm night air. The Elf smiled. This was one thing he liked about the woods. Legolas stood guard at his post, watching over the sleeping Fellowship and being at ease, but ready. The past few days had been easy, no troubled delays or ambush, making it suspicious for one to soon come. _But we will be ready_. He thought. _We have great warriors with us. Aragorn with his Narbil, Gimli with his axe, and Boromir with his broad sword. Boromir, a true warrior. Despite his troubled self he fights for all lives, protecting Frodo as well as the ring. Yet he is beside himself, as it seems. The man troubled by perhaps his tragic flaw - power. Even though he is the strongest of us, he still craves the power of the ring. Some, for this, refuse to put trust in him, even though he protects them. Man itself is confusing. How could someone so strong, so already powerful and wise with what he has want more? Perhaps something in the mind, conscience. The more power - the more strength But what for? When he is already has the full strength he needs on the outside. Maybe it's power more to within._ He turned to the camp, more so to the sleeping man, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. Legolas looked up then approached him quietly Crouched beside him, the elf placed his hand over the man's and started to wake him.

"Son of Gondor," He started, being all he needed. He felt the man's hand flinch beneath his own and saw his eyes open sharply, relaxing when he noticed who it was. "It is your turn to watch over."

Boromir nodded and stood with a groan. When eye level with Legolas, he features seemed to drop, becoming slightly angered. "Get some rest elf." He demanded gruffly as he passed.

Legolas complied and returned to his bedroll to lay down. _Alas, I shall never understand man._

_Damn Elf. _Boromir thought, crossing his arms as he leaned against one of the trees. _His watch started hours ago, at the start of night after a long day's travel and what does it show? No slurs, no yawns, not a single bag under his eyes. Not a single sign of tiredness. He's much too perfect. After days of travel a man only wants to rest. He is covered with dirt and sweat, his hair and clothes matted against his burning flesh and armor weighing heavily on his shoulders. But Legolas, that elf is clean with no sweat in comparison to man. His hair stays fine as silk, never falling or matting, and never preventing his aim. He is armored yet light and fast, swift on his feet and peacefully at ease. Serine that's another thing about Elves. They don't break or fall apart as men can, they're always wise and calm. Never has the Legolas lost his head, or cried his pale blue eyes out. He is simply too perfect to do so. Aye, simply too perfect to be he keeps himself bottled, as do most men, yet never coming undone._ He looked to the low light of the sky, then to the Fellowship. Legolas laid with arms beside him, his eyes staring into nothingness. Boromir sighed in frustration._ Damn, I shall never understand that Elf. _

As time passed, the darkness only seemed to grow. The shadows stiffened in the bright embers of what was the remaining flame. Then suddenly silence. No wind, no crawling bugs, owls, or creatures. No sound at all. That's when they attacked. From the silence they ran, orcs bearing their weapons and starting for the camp. The guarding men pushed forth into the deformed enemies as the rest of the Fellowship rose to their feet, joining the battle. Boromir drew his steel and charged into the crowd, he began to swing the heavy blade, sinking it easily into the creature's tough flesh. He stopped the on coming blows with an even strength, pushing back against the orcs as the weighted beasts fought to end him. Legolas awoke at the sound of unsheathed weapons and instantly stood to take his mark. Drawing the deadly arrows he released with prefected mastery, each shot taking down an enemy of the Fellowship, making them fall to the dusty earth. As the fifth fell, he turned to an alarming sight. As Boromir sunk his sword into the chest of his attacker, one from behind buried what appeared to be a jagged dagger into his shoulder. Boromir shouted quickly in pain and reflectively tried to bend from it. In a stroke of precious luck, Legolas pulled back and arrow and released it with excellent accuracy, missing Boromir by the hair of his rough beard and plunged itself in the throat of the gruesome orc. Boromir shook off the body and pulled the blade from his flesh, tossing it bitterly to the ground as he continued to fight. Legolas looked to it for a mere moment, the blood marking the depth of the wound, and a deep one it was. He drew his bow only a few more times as they Fellowship fought, knocking over four final orcs as the end of the barade fled into the trees. The victors congratulated briefly then began to pack up the remains of their plundered camp. Legolas was assisting Merry when he noticed the injured warrior disappear into the forest.

Boromir took the distraction to escape from the Fellowship, sneaking past the trees for cover and finding a boulder to rest on. He sat and removed the upper part of his armor, being careful of the burning of throbbed heat from his shoulder and the blood that spilled from it. He attempted to reach it, struggling as doubt began to confirm that he was unable to do so. He groaned in frustration laid his hand as far as he could, immediately feeling the sting intensify.

"You need help."

He turned to see Legolas crouched beside him, hand held out and ready to assist him. He scoffed. "I can get it. Besides, what do you know of healing wounds? You've barely ever had a scratch." He tried for the cut again.

"That is not truth." Legolas replied, almost questionably. "No one, not even the greatest warriors are free from harm. No one is perfect." He was taken amiss by the man's snicker.

"Not perfect?" Boromir asked. "You are the epitome of the word."

"I'm afraid I don't understand..."

"Please." The man began, starting to fume a rant. "Your archery it without flaw, you're never tired or restless. Never dirty or unpleased. You are never broken or shattered. You're nothing like a man. You're too perfect." He reached for his shoulder once more, his wrist caught in the hand of the Elf's. As he turned to object he saw his face a moment from his.

"I am not a man, son of Gondor. I am an Elf." His pale eyes locked onto the man's grey ones, capturing him. "But that does not make me perfect. My bow took years of error and trials. I am not tired because I have no reason to sleep, rarely do I dream. I can be shattered, but I do not allow it to show. What place does it have in our mission? You should know. You hide away as well as I, replacing it with despised pride. We are both far from perfect. Yet we are both strong, you strongest of us all, but not perfect." He finished and backed away slightly, holding the man in place but knowing it would not stop him if he would retaliate in anger.

Boromir didn't attack him, rather almost shook in his grasp, rocked for a moment and unable to turn from the Elf's piercing gaze. "You do not understand." He stated plainly. "No one does. Physical strength I have yet I bend for the ring. Something not my own. Yet I protect it as well as the Fellowship but because of my flaws I am untrusted by all. No one shall trust me." His head lowered slightly as he pulled from the Elf's eyes and looked off, casting them else where.

"I do." Legolas leaned slightly into his view. The man looked to him in curious disbelief. "I put my life in your hands, Boromir." He released the man's wrists. "Now put your trust in me, and allow me to help you."

Boromir looked to him in thought for a moment, then sighed and lowered his head and hands. "I feel as though you're making a mistake trusting me."

Legolas began to inspect his wound. "My luck has been honest so far." The conversation ended as he began to clean the red blood surrounding the cut, starting to heal it. When he began to fix it shut, he was given surprise by the man's lack of movement. Not flinching, groaning, or gasping in pain. He simply sat calmly and waited.

"Thank you." The man said suddenly. Legolas looked to him curiously. Boromir turned his head to slightly face him. "For everything."

The elf smiled. "You're welcome." He finished the injury and stood, passing the man his armor. "Shall we return to the others?"

Boromir re-equipped his armor in silence, no reply. He stared straight at the elf as he stood, eye level he approached, coming close to the elf's face and causing him confusion but no fear. "Do you truly trust your life in my hands? In me?" The man asked gruffly, but his grey eyes were cast over with dark worry, little power.

Legolas stared into them for a moment before replying. "Yes."

Boromir's eyes seemed to light suddenly, filling with the strength of a warrior once more. "Good." He said quietly. He quickly leaned into the Elf's thin, crisp lips. Legolas gasped slightly in surprise and the man took the opportunity to explore him, pulling him close as his arms held him tightly from behind. The elf almost pulled back from the man, stopping in thought.

_Boromir is strong, he can defeat his own fears and provoke it in others. He can conquer others, but he is simply beside himself. Unsure, in a way, untrusted by the people portects giving him much grief. He feels unwanted solitude, but, just now, it seemed like even more so. He is anything but weak, yet it was shown through his eyes that he felt it. His emotions both unseen weakness and utter loneliness. But when I said yes it vanished. Disappeared like a raven in the night. His power returned, is here now, and even making it's way into me. _Slowly the elf shut his eyes as his kissed the man back, returning the power and passion that had been given to him. _Maybe this, knowing he is not alone, brings him power. Bring us power, and fills us. Maybe it is so that I shall never understand men. Maybe never even Boromir alone, but perhaps I don't need to._

Boromir smiled mentally as the Elf's lips pushed back against his own. _The Elf is perfect. He thought. Wise, but still hurt. Master at his archered art but taking fault and training to achieve it. He can be unraveled as I can, but neither of us show it in battle. He's perfect, if only to me. So much so he simply knows. Understands. And not just because he is an Elf. He is Legolas, his own unique perfection. But how can it be so?_ The man felt the elf's arms tighten around him, he grinned. _Damn, perhaps it's best not to know. To never know. Besides, there is no point to question true perfection._


End file.
